


A World Unborn

by colazitron



Category: One Direction
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 11:33:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colazitron/pseuds/colazitron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam is sick. Harry comes over to make soup.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A World Unborn

**A World Unborn**

 

Liam is on vocal rest.

Not the way that Harry is what feels like every other week, where he's told not to say much or anything for a day or two. No, Liam is on _proper_ vocal rest. He's more on bed rest, really. Everything rest. He has a really high fever and a sore throat and a terrible headache and can only keep small quantities of food down at a time even though he has no appetite for anything. So, really, he's not on vocal rest. He's on sick leave.

Harry feels horrible for him, because he skirts too close for comfort to the edge of a terrible cold like that almost permanently from mid-November to mid-March. He generally doesn't have anything against winter, but it is dreadfully cold and it does make him miserable and wet and lonely and sick, so. Well. He supposes it's definitely not his favourite season, Christmas, New Year's and birthdays be damned.

Anyway. He feels horrible for Liam, so he decides to keep him company for a bit.

"That is a dreadful idea," Louis says over the phone but the one perk of not living with him anymore is that there is nothing Louis can really do to stop him.

"How so? He's miserable and I'm sure no one's been over to air out his flat and make him a fresh batch of soup or anything. How is he supposed to get better like that?"

Louis heaves a deep sigh, because Harry's most likely right and Louis slips into big-brother mode really easily.

"Well, let me do it then."

"Louis, you're in Manchester with your girlfriend. You stay put. Don't make me call her and tell her to tie you up."

"I wouldn't mind," Louis quips and Harry snorts in amusement.

"Of course you wouldn't." He sighs and rubs a hand over his forehead before going on. "Look. You're with Eleanor and Zayn's with Perrie and Niall's out with Josh. That leaves me."

"But you'll just get yourself sick and then we'll be down two singers and up two whiny sick people."

"I'm pretty sure I won't catch anything just from spending a few hours in the same flat. I'll wear one of those mouth mask thing, if it makes you feel better."

"No, don't be ridiculous. Just don't snog him or anything."

"Right. Because that was totally what I was planning on."

"Well, you never know. All I'm saying is don't."

"I'll try to restrain myself. Give Eleanor my love."

"She's no need for it, she's got me," Louis says, while he hears Eleanor yell "love you too!" from somewhere in the background.

"Hanging up now, you ridiculous person."

"Go play Florence Nightingale then, but I won't be bringing you soup when you do catch his cold."

"Yes, you will."

"Yes, I will," Louis says on a sigh before they laugh at each other.

"Bye, Lou."

"Bye, Haz."

Harry pockets his phone and walks round his house, turning all the lights off and making sure all the windows are closed while picking up a jumper, his wallet and car keys. Slipping on a jacket and his favourite pair of boots he steps outside and gets in the car to drive to Liam's place. Every time he gets into one of his cars - or any car, really - he's so glad he got his driver's license as soon as he could. Sure, studying wasn't exactly fun or easy on top of everything else and he probably should've gotten in more practice, but he did pass, didn't he. And he's not been involved in any (serious) trouble, so. It's just so lovely to be completely independent from public transport or taxis. He's not sure how Zayn, Liam and Niall do it, if he's being quite honest. On the way over he stops for ingredients to make chicken soup and buys a packet of shortbread biscuits and zwieback because that's always been the only thing he could keep down when he felt ill.

When Liam opens the door, his face is pale and drawn, his eyes are hazy and he looks sweaty all over in a really, really unappealing way.

"Harry?" he asks, like he's making sure Harry's not a mirage.

"Yep. I brought food."

"Then, by all means, come in," Liam says, attempting a smile. He falls onto the sofa even though the lack of blanket and pillows makes Harry think he'd opted to stay in bed before, while Harry sets his groceries down in the kitchen. The flat smells of sick, so the first thing he does is opening all the windows.

"No, don't, it's cold," Liam complains, curling in on himself. Harry shoots him an apologetic look.

"Sorry, but you need fresh air. It's rank in here mate. You shouldn't marinate in your germs like that. Won't help make you better."

Liam grunts in answer and flops down onto his side, curling up in a little ball. Harry kneels down next to him and pushes a hand over his head. The skin under his shorn hair radiates heat.

"How about you go have a bath and wash while I change your sheets and get started on the chicken soup?" he suggests.

Liam whines in a way that Harry honestly can't really interpret but then his head moves in a nod and he slowly pushes himself upright, clinging to Harry for a moment in what Harry guesses is a dizzy spell. He steers Liam into the bath and sets the temperature of the water - not too hot, so he won't pass out - and puts his phone on the wooden box Liam uses to keep all his clean towels in.

"If you're feeling unwell or need me for anything, call me," he says, fixing Liam with a hard stare to make his instruction sink in. Liam nods and struggles with his jumper, so Harry steps in and helps him pull it over his head.

"Thanks," Liam says. "I think I can manage from here."

"Alright. See you in a bit. Don't fall asleep in there. And don't forget to turn the water back off."

"Yes, mum," Liam says, rolling his eyes. He's smiling though so Harry's not too worried and just blows him a kiss before he closes the door from the outside. He throws the windows in Liam's bedroom wide open too and hums to himself a bit while he strips the bed down, balling the sheets up and throwing them in a corner to be dealt with later before poking through Liam's closet in the search of clean ones. He chooses a crisp white set that's at the very bottom so Harry thinks Liam probably doesn't use it that much, but white always seems extra clean to him and extra clean is exactly what Liam's immune system needs right now. Plus, if Liam doesn't like them as much, he won't mind changing them again as soon as he's better.

Once that's done, he pulls the duvet down halfway to let the fresh air settle in the sheets and goes back into the living room to close the windows there and pokes around the kitchen for a pot, cutting board and knife. He turns up the volume of his phone's ring tone and sets it down on the counter, tapping his finger against a few icons until the gentle tones of some album Ed's recommended him recently and he ever got around to listening to before sound through the kitchen.

He puts the chicken into the huge pot and fills it with water until it's covered in it and turns on the stove before getting to chopping up vegetables, half listening to the music and waiting for his phone to ring and probably not paying nearly enough attention to the sharp knife he's handling. He's always liked the calm simplicity of cooking. Chopping up things and stirring them over heat until they combine into yummy, edible things. There's nothing simpler that gives that much instant pleasure. Well, other than sex maybe.

Once the chicken's tender enough, he takes it out and dumps the veggies in the water instead, stirring in salt, pepper and a bit of chicken broth before turning the heat down and letting it simmer. He's made the mistake of trying to get the meat off the chicken immediately before and knows by now to wait a few minutes so he won't burn himself, so he walks back into the bedroom and closes the windows, dragging the balled up sheets into the bath room (where he can conveniently check up on Liam without looking like he's checking up on him even though he probably sees right through Harry).

"How are you feeling?" he asks.

"A bit better, actually. Thanks."

"Haven't really done anything yet."

"You showed up and got my arse in gear. Was enough."

"Alright. Come find me in the living room when you're done, we can watch a DVD or something, yeah?"

Liam nods, eyes closed and head resting back against the rim of the bathtub again, so Harry leaves him be and goes to find a second blanket for Liam to huddle under on the sofa. He hooks his phone up to Liam's speakers and finds the perfect spot in the room to listen before lying down on the floor and relaxing into the music. It really is quite a good album. He's got to thank Ed for telling him later.

He doesn't think he nods off, but he's not sure how long it is until Liam shuffles into the room and laughs breathlessly at the way he's sprawled out on his carpet. Harry gives him an upside down grin and watches Liam set up on the sofa.

"Wanna watch _Toy Story_?" he asks. Liam's eyes light up at that and he grins at Harry.

"You don't mind?"

"Nah. 's fun." Plus, comfort movies are probably good for the sickly.

"I'll put it on and go check on the soup. You get comfortable," he says and then unplugs his phone and pokes around Liam's entertainment system until he's got the move running. Liam snuggles into the sofa happily and smiles at Harry like he's the best thing he's seen all week. Harry can't help returning the smile. He presses a kiss to the prickly top of Liam's head and then walks back into the kitchen, poking a piece of carrot with a fork - bloody carrots taking forever to go soft - and starts peeling the meat off the bones of the chicken. The sound of the film playing in the other room feels oddly domestic and Harry feels a smile stretch over his lips. He knows he and Louis needed to move out from each other before they actually started going mad with how much of each other they saw and he knows it would be the same thing with any of the other lads but that doesn't change the fact that living alone wasn't really something Harry was fond of. It got lonely really quickly. When he walks back into the living room with two steaming bowls of chicken soup, Woody's just accidentally pushed Buzz out the window.

"You're my favourite," Liam says, eyes going round. He slurps slowly at the soup, testing his own stomach but in the end, manages to get almost all of it down before he pushes the bowl away and sinks back against the back rest of the sofa. Harry pats his thigh in an invitation for Liam to lie down and moments later Liam's curled up along the sofa, his head pillowed on Harry's admittedly skinny thigh. He sighs happily though and Harry runs his hand over his head gently while they watch the rest of the movie in relative silence, broken only by the occasional chuckle or off-hand comment.

When the movie's over, Harry reaches for the remote to turn it off, while Liam seems half asleep already.

"Really are my favourite, Hazza," Liam mumbles.

"You're just saying that because I made you soup," Harry says, pulling at Liam's earlobe teasingly. Liam shifts so he can tilt his head back and look at Harry, an adorable frown on his face like they're having a very serious discussion when it's actually mostly fever and exhaustion talking on his part.

"No," he says, emphatically. "You're always my favourite."

"Alright, mate," Harry acquiesces and presses his hand to Liam's forehead. He does feel really warm. Liam sighs heavily and turns back into the position he was in before, pressing his cheek against the denim of Harry's trouser.

"'s cause you're always nice and always pretty. But you don't think I'm pretty. 's okay though."

This time it's Harry who frowns.

"Of course I think you're pretty. You're in One Direction. They're all fit lads, aren't they?"

Liam huffs another annoyed breath like Harry's _just not getting it_. To be honest, he's not.

"No. Not, like, kiss-pretty. I always want to kiss you cause you're pretty but you don't want to kiss me cause I'm not leggy and blond and not a bird."

To say Harry is floored would be a gross understatement. He's actually pretty sure someone just pulled the floor out from under his feet.

"Um," he says and pats Liam on the head awkwardly.

"It's okay," Liam says and pats Harry's thigh.

"You should, um. Sleep. We can talk about kissing when you're better, alright?"

"Okay, Hazza. Night," Liam says and within a few minutes his breaths have evened out into a shallow sleep pattern while Harry sits and stares at nothing and tries to let what Liam just said sink in. Louis's probably think it's hilarious that his no-snogging advice turned out actually pretty spot on.

 

He does. He also sighs like he's known all along when Harry calls him later that evening because girlfriend or not he needs his best friend right now, damnit. He even sing-songs "I told you so" down the line until Harry hears Eleanor thwack him with a pillow.

"Just talk to him about it. Poor lad's probably proper embarrassed," she says and, oh, that's why her thwacking sounded so loud. He's on speaker phone.

"But what do I say?"

"You'll think of something. Just be nice," Louis says.

"I'm always nice," Harry says, a little huffy, because he is. Or at least he tries to be. "Liam said so. It's why I'm his favourite."

"You're going to be insufferably smug about that, aren't you."

"Yep. I'm Liam's favourite and your favourite. Two down, two to go."

"No, you're not, I am," Eleanor speaks up. Harry groans at the unmistakable sound of a kiss being exchanged at the other end of the phone line.

"If you weren't so cute together, I'd regret introducing you. At least wait till we've hung up."

"Bye, Harry," Louis says and Eleanor barely has time to giggle her own goodbyes before the line does go dead. Some best friend he has.

 

This time, when Liam opens the door to him, his face is flushed an embarrassed red, but he lets Harry in anway. They sit on the sofa together, further apart than they normally would even if they weren't cuddling and an awkward silence hanging between them.

"Listen, Liam," Harry finally makes himself say.

"No, Haz, you don't. It's alright. Really. Er, I hadn't meant to say that, but it's alright, really," Liam cuts him off.

"But."

"No, really. Look. I. It's not like that was just the fever talking, okay? You are quite pretty and I've kinda wanted to kiss you a bit for a while now, but it's not, like, serious, yeah? It's not even a proper crush or anything. Just. Yeah."

"Just that you think I'm nice and pretty and you want to kiss me."

"Yeah. Just - yeah."

Harry looks over at Liam, who's looking at the hands clasped tightly in his lap and bites his lip before answering.

"I've not really thought about kissing you before. Like, not as something I'd want to do. But I think you're nice and pretty too and if you don't mind that I've not, then. We could try, maybe?"

"What?" Liam asks, head coming up to look at Harry. Harry shrugs.

"I mean, why not, right? If it doesn't work, it doesn't, but at least we'll know."

"Oh, um. Right. Yeah."

"But not now. When you're better. Cause I don't want-"

"No, sure. Um," Liam says, seemingly at a loss of what to do or say at this turn of events. Harry tries for a smile and after a moment Liam hesitantly returns it.

"Wanna watch _Toy Story 2_?" he asks. "There's still soup as well."

"Alright," Harry agrees easily, even though he can feel a strange buzzing underneath his skin that's probably the same one that's making Liam all confused. "I'll go heat it up."

"I'll put on the film."

They both get up from the sofa, but when Harry goes to step past Liam towards the kitchen, Liam grabs for his wrist and holds him back, pressing a soft kiss against his cheek. Harry blinks in surprise, but the smile is still firmly rooted on his lips and he rubs his thumb over Liam's fingers in return. The smile doesn't leave him while he's watching the soup heat back up or while he watches the second and third part of _Toy Story_ with Liam. He's got a feeling it'll stay for a while longer than that too, even if he never saw it coming.

**The End**


End file.
